Like Dreamers

Yesterday I woke up, feeling as though our living in Israel was a dream. It was the oddest realization of how quickly the sparkle of the Holy Land fades. And while there's much to be thankful for the support of America and American Zionism, piecing together the delicate balance between the two for those who choose to live here or there, travel back and forth, is seemingly complicated to the very essence of our soul. Or at least it does to mine. It is masked quite heavily with excuses, priorities, comforts, economical advantages and so forth. My mom told me today to enjoy the best of both worlds and not to be a chafifnik. That in our times, it's just a matter of money. Plan ahead, go to simchas and keep at it. And she's incredibly proud that we are are living in the Chosen Land. It wasn't until 2-3 weeks ago that she had shared with me these feelings.

It'll now be our third Shabbat here, Yom tov also approaching soon and our flight back on October 23rd. Seeing photographs of sukkahs torn down here on the East Coast from rain and in Israel from the wind (something we too were concerned about since our rental is on top of a hill), there was a common thread to the tradition that binds us, regardless of where we practice.

I spend long hours, daily, since our arrival to be with my mom and help give my sisters some reprieve. I have often been asked if it's better to die suddenly or from a terminal illness. I would answer that in sickness you have time for closure, to say you love the person. And you do. But death isn't pretty, especially when it stares you in the face. The illness changes the person's personality and functionality fails. I have come to learn that this question is silly. Any way of dying, excuse me for the lack of better words, downright sucks.

We've come to learn of new phrases - anticipated grief, caregivers fatigue, compassion fatigue. And learning more what it means when told so and so died in peace, surrounded by family.

Our return to Israel is in 6 days. I envision in my head, our departure. In one, I'm strong, tell my mother I'll love her forever, a big hug and go. In the other, I cry beside her, in the car in route to airport, certain that my tears and departure take away the last pieces of hope and our family being ביחד, together. This is something I know has been an important ingredient to my mother, and for better or worse, we accomplished that, being here for the holidays.

Please continue to pray, simply that there be no pain and מנוחת הנפש, comfort to the soul of יהודית בת צבאטל.

Thank you to those who have reached out, following our journey, the very raw emotions, twists and turns. 

Hope that someday we can all whole heartily recite בשוב ה' את שיבת ציון היינו כחולמים - אז ימאלה שחוק פינו ולשוננינו רינה. For until it is bestowed from Gd, there never really is total shleimut (wholeness).

When it does come to this point - אז - we will ALL feel with great joy of the return to Zion.

ABD - always be davening, as Josh says. As we soon approach Hoshana Raba, the final day of judgement, I thank you for keeping us in your thoughts and changing any little bit of action to bring the pains leading towards redemption that much closer.

** Sweet memory from the picture above is that of our 6 month old who learned to sit while here. My mother asked for her two cosmetic bags. Concerned he'd fall and bump is head, she reached out her hands and he instinctively took hers with both of his. It was the sweetest indication of support, strength and love. When all else fails, there's still the very core of our essence that is there.

*** A note for humanity at large and reminder to myself (this blog serves as a place for my/our own emotions). People mean well, and saying "refua shleima" when there's a terminal illness is very hard to swallow. The best has been to wish that of strength, peace, no pain and a little mercy. As someone wrote me today "Hashem should help in ALL areas." Sure hope. The cycle of life is beautiful, cruel, amazing, painful, all in the same time. And I've seen it in a chunk of 2 years. Sudden loss of a parent, an early miscarriage, mom's lymphoma diagnosis, the arrival of our sweet Yaakov Chaim  נ"י, the hopes for my mom to visit us on the holidays being told cancer free, only to receive another (rather more massive) blow. But through and through she isn't upset. She misses our father. Claims not to be afraid of death. Holds intense faith of Gd's will. Its a response that doesn't make sense to me, but perhaps with more time and age, I'll come to understand.